


the common room

by yellowmarshmallow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Being Harry, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, james and harry having some father/son bonding time, james being a supportive parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25654219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowmarshmallow/pseuds/yellowmarshmallow
Summary: What is when Harry died he didn't meet Dumbledore? What if instead, he met someone he had been dreaming of meeting since he was a child? What if he met James?
Relationships: Harry Potter & James Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	the common room

Harry was lying face down, his eye closed, listening to the silence. He was alone, definitely alone, which meant he was no longer in the Forbidden Forest.

After a long moment, he came to the conclusion that he _had_ in fact just died and perhaps he was purely disembodied thought. However, after _more_ consideration, he decided that he must exist, because he was clearly lying down on a surface. He knew this because he could _feel_ it; he could feel the surface he was lying on.

As he had a sense of touch, he wondered whether he would be able to see anything if he opened his eyes; so, he did.

It was bright.

There was a white mist which didn’t seem to hide the existence of where he was but rather, it seemed to be in the process of forming the world around him. He reached out to grasp at the mist, but it just swirled around his fingers before disappearing off to re-join the rest of the mist. It felt oddly cold between his fingers, despite the surface he was now sat on feeling neither hot nor cold. Everything appeared to be a blank canvas of which Harry was unconsciously sculpting into a form of reality.

It was only then that he realised he had a hand, and a body, so he was right; he had to exist, in some form or other. He glanced over his body and saw that he was unscathed, and he reached up to touch his face, noticing the absence of his glasses on his nose. Whilst he appreciated not needing glasses to see, his face felt naked without them.

Then, when he glanced at the ground, he saw his glasses, or a copy of his glasses – that would depend on where he was. Either way, he picked them up and put them on. He nodded in thanks, though he was unsure why he was thanking a place, and watched as the room took its form.

Everything was still white, but it now looked as if someone had taken the Gryffindor common room and sucked all the colour from it – there was even a white, shadowless fire. He stood up and sat at his usual spot by the fire, feeling more at peace than he did a moment ago, despite there not being the usual red and gold colours.

Then a noise broke forth. It was coming from the other side of the room, beneath one of the tables. It was the small, soft thumping of something that flapped, flailed, and struggled. It was a pitiful noise, but one that unnerved him because he had believed he was alone.

He wanted to ignore it, a part of him knew _exactly_ what it was, and he didn’t want to confirm his suspicions, but the noise got louder, and louder, and louder, until it was all he could hear. Though it was probably because it was the _only_ noise he could hear.

Not being able to deal with his curiosity and the noise, he stood up and walked towards it.

He recoiled at the sight. It was humanoid, but only just. Its skin was raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay in a curled-up position, shuddering under the table, where it had been left, unwanted, unseen.

He was uncertain of it. Small and fragile though it was, he didn’t want to approach it, because he didn’t know what it would do if he did. Nevertheless, he drew closer to it, prepared to jump away if he needed to. He was now near enough to touch it, but he couldn’t. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort whatever it was, it was clearly in pain.

“It’s best you don’t touch that.”

He spun round at the voice and was wrapped into a warm, loving embrace – by himself.

He was too stunned to move, confused as to why he was hugging himself. Until he realised, he wasn’t. This person was taller than he was, and nowhere near as skinny. Though almost a carbon copy, they were not Harry, which left only one person –

“Dad?” he asked, his voice croaky as his uncertainty seeped into it.

The person nodded and Harry didn’t need any further incentive. He hugged his dad back, tighter than he thought he ever had the strength to do.

“Hey, hey, you’re OK,” his dad soothed, stroking the back of Harry’s head. Harry tried to not cry, but it was almost impossible. He had wanted nothing more than to hug his dad for his entire life, and now he could. After he let out a choked sob, James gripped him tighter, murmuring words of encouragement.

They stayed in this position for a while; Harry being overwhelmed with grief for everyone they had just lost and joy at being reunited with his dad and James meeting his son for what felt like the first time and not wanting to let go anytime soon. “Merlin,” he muttered once Harry’s sobs had turned into silent tears. “You shouldn’t be here yet Prongslet, you shouldn’t _have_ to be here,” his dad whispered, letting Harry go and holding him at arms-length, wiping away his son’s tears with a sigh. “But it’s good to see you,” he smiled.

Harry shook his head and smiled back at his dad. “They’re protected now right?” he asked, looking at his dad in a mixture of hope and worry. “Riddle can’t touch them?”

James glanced at Harry sympathetically. “He can’t,” he said, guiding Harry back to the sofa seats. “You sacrificed yourself out of love, like your mum did,” James frowned. “I’m _certainly_ going to have words with Dumbledore about this though.”

They sat for a moment, Harry trying to process everything that was happening. “Am I dead?” he asked, and his dad grinned at him.

“That is yet to be decided,” he chuckled, leaning back into the sofa.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “How can it be undecided?” he asked.

“Voldemort made many mistakes,” James replied. “Can you think of another he may have made besides, well that,” he said gesturing to _it_ behind them.

Harry thought for a moment, glancing around the room. He began to notice differences appear in the room, the layout shifting slightly. Maybe that was his dad’s influence. He stared into the fire, watching the flames dance around without creating any light before he exclaimed, “my blood! He used my blood!”

James laughed at his son’s oddly timed excitement. “He did. He tethered you to life whilst he is still alive. It’s now a choice that’s up to you.”

“But –“ Harry began. “What about defeating Voldemort? If I stay who will –“

James interrupted Harry by placing a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know, but it’s your decision Prongslet, no one can make that for you,” he smiled lovingly at Harry, who’s mind was filling with more and more questions.

“You said you were going to talk to Dumbledore, does that mean that mum’s here? Sirius and Remus too?” Harry asked, hoping he would be able to see them.

James seemed to know exactly what Harry was thinking. “Only two people are allowed to come here, the one who’s undecided and someone they wouldn’t mind seeing,” James said his eyes gaging Harry’s face for a reaction. When Harry’s shoulder’s slumped, he felt James give him another hug. “They’d be here if they could, your mother was not happy that she couldn’t come with,” James chuckled.

This made Harry smile slightly, but he still wished he could have seen everybody. “Does that mean – if I stay – I get to see everyone again?” he asked, and James amused expression fell.

“It does, but Harry,” James looked him in the eye. “Don’t make your decision based on that, we will still be here if you decide to go back, have patience.”

Harry nodded. Of course he wanted to see his family again, the family he should have had, and wished he had. “Was it you in the forest?” he asked.

James’ went rigid and he stared into the fire. “It wasn’t, no,” he sighed, before glancing back at Harry who didn’t seen to have any reaction. “But you already knew that didn’t you?” James asked, but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Harry nodded solemnly, sighing as he also stared into the fire. “The Deathly Hallows, they’re suppose to lead you towards death, right? Or at least, the first two are,” Harry said, looking at his dad to make sure he was correct. When James nodded along, he continued. “I was nervous, I knew I had to but I –“ he felt his throat tighten as he remembered the feeling of dread as he walked into the forest. He shook his head. “I knew whatever I saw, it would lead me to Voldemort, tell me what I wanted to hear I guess, morbid words of encouragement,” Harry joked, giving a pained laugh.

James looked away from the fire and Harry could feel his fathers gaze as he continued to stare into the fire. “Harry,” he said. “I hope you know, I – we – would never, ever tell you to head into that forest. Sod what needs to happen or whatever Dumbledore said,” he said rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We would never tell you to head towards death, we – all of us – want you to live a long, happy life,” James smiled softly at Harry who felt the backs of his eyes sting.

He had _known_ , or at the least suspected, when he used the stone what its true intentions were – that it doesn’t really show you your loved ones, but a reflection of them that leads you into deaths clutches. Knowing this, however, and suspecting are different things. It had been difficult to hear his family tell him he needed to die, but hearing that it wasn’t his family at all, it made him feel lighter, happier. Suddenly, he remembered why he was here to begin with. “The part of his soul that was inside of me…”

“It’s gone, forcibly removed by its own creator,” James said, glancing at it under the table with a grimace. “I can’t imagine what the look on his face his going to be when he realises. You might as well say ‘fuck you’ to his face,” James laughed, spreading the infectious feeling to Harry who joined in. James’ eyes widened and he coughed. “Don’t ever tell your mother I swore in front of you, I think she’d find a way to kill me a second time,” he joked and Harry chuckled, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach at the remembrance that his dad was dead.

Wanting to change the conversation, he asked, “where are we?”

“I think it’s different for every person,” James said, glancing around. “What do you see?” he asked, a grin appearing on his face.

Harry felt slightly embarrassed about what he saw but replied anyway. “The – er – the Gryffindor common room,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile.

“Really?” James asked excitedly, intrigued. “I actually see the same.”

Harry have in incredulous look at his dad who shrugged.

“Great minds think alike Prongslet,” he grinned, tapping his temple with, making Harry laugh. “My home away from home,” he added, his eyes wandering around the room fondly.

“Home,” Harry said absentmindedly, looking around with the same fondness.

James’ eyes darkened. “I’m so sorry Harry,” he said, looking at Harry sadly.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head. “What for?”

“Your mother and I, we specifically made sure you’d never have to stay with the Dursleys, under any circumstances,” he said, making eye contact with Harry who didn’t know what to say. “Your legal guardian was supposed to be Sirius, if we died, then it was an unspoken agreement that it would be Remus if anything went really wrong,” he placed a hand on Harry’s cheek. “We even asked _Minnie_ , though she declined, she said it was ‘inappropriate for a Professor’.” he shrugged, and Harry giggled.

“Being raised by Professor McGonagall? That would have been something,” Harry muttered, trying not to smile. “Besides, it wasn’t _that_ bad. I got to eat, I had a room, eventually I guess, and they weren’t violent,” Harry shrugged but James shook his head, furiously.

“That should be _expected_ from them Prongslet, not a blessing,” James insisted. “They’re needed, just like being loved.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, unsure of what else to say. James’ eyes widened.

“Merlin no! Prongslet, _don’t_ apologise. It’s _not_ your fault all right?” James said, pulling the boy in for yet another hug, as if making up for the lack of hugs he’d been able to give Harry through-out Harry’s life. “All right?” James asked again when Harry didn’t answer.

Harry nodded, watching his dad breathe a sigh of relief as he did.

“There’s so much I want to talk to you about, and I’m not sure we have the time,” James sighed, readjusting how he was sat. Harry looked at him curiously, a part of him still expecting his dad to disappear any moment. “Time passes differently here, so I’m not sure how much time we actually have.”

Harry shrugged and turned to face his dad. “I’m sure we have enough time to talk about some things,” he grinned, James returning the grin with a laugh.

“All right is there anything you really want to know?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “I have all the information you’ll ever need.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you’re all seeing, all knowing Dad,” Harry laughed as James pouted.

“I tried that with Padfoot too, he didn’t believe me,” he sighed, before looking back at Harry with another grin. “So, anything you want to know?”

Harry didn’t know where to begin. He had so many questions that had built up over the years and he didn’t know which to ask first. “How did you create the map?”

James raised an eyebrow. “Ah yes, the map that you used to stalk a certain Malfoy,” he nodded wisely as Harry felt his face heat up. “Are you sure you don’t have some unrequited love for him?”

“ _Dad_!” he exclaimed, burying his face in his hands.

“You’re right, you’re right, not the time, plus I know the answer already,” he muttered, making Harry blush even more. “I’m surprised this is what you’re asking first. Moony did most of it really, figuring out what spells to use and making a plan of the castle lay out, but Pads and I did the actual magic, Moony was too busy with the – er – full moons.”

Harry nodded solemnly, knowing how bad Remus’ transformations were. He paused again, wondering what to ask next. “Did you really…?” he began, unsure of how to phrase this question. James seemed to know exactly what it was that Harry wanted to ask.

“I was a prat for the first few years of Hogwarts, that’s true,” he sighed. “Bit arrogant, perhaps a bit _too_ proud, but I never used it against people, and I never thought I was above people because I was a Potter as Snivellus might make it seem,” he said, looking at Harry with a smile.

Harry smiled, remembering what Sirius had told him in his 5th year. “What you need to know Cub, is your father, he thought he was better because he was _James.”_

James looked at Harry. “Your mother always knew that I think. I was a git, but I wasn’t a supremacist.

“Then, in 3rd year when we found out about Moony’s ‘ _furry little problem’_ , as we liked to call it, all of us grew up a little bit. We became more concerned with each other than others because it didn’t matter what they were doing when our brother was suffering. Then Sirius ran away, and I knew I had to become a better person. I started to make sure everyone was eating regular meals and that they’d get enough sleep, Pads started to refer to me as the mother of the group,” James shuddered, making Harry grin – it sounded a lot like what Ron would do to Hermione and him. “I guess it didn’t go unnoticed.”

Harry felt relieved to hear his dad’s side of the events. He knew there must have been something that Snape had missed, something he was too blinded by his own biases to see.

“If I – if I leave, will I see you again?” he asked, not knowing if he really wanted the answer.

“Eventually, but not for a very long time, I hope,” James said, smiling at Harry. “Not that I don’t want to see you, but you deserve to live a happy life.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Harry said, bringing his knees up to his chest. “What if I go back and I mess it up? What if Voldemort wins? What if I die again?”

“Harry,” James interrupted, but Harry continued.

“What if the war has already continued without me? What if they’re all dead?”

“Harry!” James said loudly, catching Harry’s attention. “You are _braver_ , _kinder_ and _more loyal_ than I could have _ever_ dreamed. I’m so proud of you and I know, whatever you face, you will be OK. It will be OK Prongslet,” he said, staring at Harry with what can only be described as parental determination.

After a moment of silence, Harry spoke. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go back yet,” he whispered, leaning into his dad who wrapped an arm around him.

“No one is ever ready to live, that’s what makes it a challenge, but everyone deserves not only a chance to live, but to have a life.” James rubbed his thumb in circular motions on Harry’s shoulder as he spoke, and Harry closed his eyes, his mind a storm of thoughts as he tried to decipher what he should do; what he _wanted_ to do.

He wanted a life; with Ron, Hermione, the Weasley’s, his friends.

He wanted to see his family again.

He knew he was exhausted.

He knew he had to defeat Voldemort.

“I’m going back,” Harry said, no questions, no doubt. He was going to head back.

James kissed his forehead. “I thought you would.”

“But, in a moment,” he said, hugging his dad tighter.

James nodded and didn’t respond further. They sat on the sofa in the mist for what felt like hours, but it was impossible to really say.

Without a word, Harry stood up, James quickly following suit. He looked at his dad and tackled the man in a hug.

“We’ll be here when you return Prongslet, and I hope you know how much we love you, never forget that.” James let Harry go, and he didn’t trust himself to respond vocally so just nodded.

“Is this – is any of this real? Or just in my head?” Harry asked, wanting to ask this one last question.

James chuckled. “Of course it’s in your head Harry, but that doesn’t make it any less real.”

Then, without a word, Harry headed to the portrait entrance, which swung open a he approached it, and headed back.


End file.
